


long live the king

by icygrace



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icygrace/pseuds/icygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Henry survives his jousting “accident.” It has unexpected consequences for Kenna and Bash. </p><p>EDITED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long live the king

**Author's Note:**

> The plague occurs well after it does on the show. Also AU on other parts of the history, too. I have no idea what’s up with me and the AUs lately.

As he lies regaining his strength, the king asks for Diane, demanding that she be sent for at once when he’s told she’s not at court. After Catherine’s blackmail with Kenna’s help and faced with Henry’s madness, Diane had not dared return, both for her own sake and her son’s.

 

But now that the king seems to have risen from the depths of that madness, he would most likely brush off her efforts to have Bash legitimized. After all, if _Mary_ schemed to have Bash legitimized so that she could marry him and Henry would have let it all happen if she hadn’t gotten it into her head to marry Francis when Nostradamus’s prophecy changed, Henry can hardly blame his beloved Diane for doing the same out of maternal affection for his favorite son.

 

His favorite son, who he eventually realizes has yet to visit his bedside. Uncharacteristically, Henry is too troubled by Bash’s absence once he concludes that it’s truly not Catherine’s doing to remember that, as king, he can _order_ his son to appear.

 

\---

 

His favorite son, whom he mistreated repeatedly during his madness.

 

Bash had seemed truly pained when he thought the king would die, but now that Henry’s stubbornly clung to life and recovers apace, Bash’s anger at him has returned and truly taken root. It seems that it’s not right to be angry with your father if he’s dying, but it’s fair to be furious with him while he lives and breathes.

 

\---

 

“Lady Kenna,” Henry says, sounding puzzled. “I didn’t ask for you.”

 

“I know, Your Majesty. I won’t be staying long. How are you?”

 

“Improving.”

 

“Very good.” She tries not to wring her hands in her lap as she gets to the point of her visit. “Everyone is so pleased. Things have been . . . challenging, at court, with your illness. Francis has been doing the best he can, but he can’t do everything. He needs others he trusts to rely on until you are better. He trusts Bash implicitly and Bash . . .” _Quite literally despises you. Is avoiding you_ , she amends mentally. It would be too cruel to tell the king the whole truth. She had to steel herself to enter the sickroom, is still on edge, but with every passing moment, it becomes more obvious that what she’s heard is true: that the king’s himself again and not the utter madman he’d been for months. “Quite dutiful.”

 

“Well, that’s more than anyone has said to me of my court or my sons since I’ve woken. I’ve seen Francis very little and Bash not at all.”

 

“I know,” she says again, feeling stupid. “About Bash, I mean. That’s why I’m here. To explain. Why he can’t be.” _Lie lie lie_. He _won’t_ be.

“You’d think his mother could do that.”

 

“You men don’t rely on your mothers once you’re grown and married, do you?”

 

“What?”

 

Oh God, is he angry now, with her? For questioning him? Regressing? They’ll kill her if he spirals back into madness.

 

“Married?” Henry sounds truly baffled.

 

“Yes.”

 

His eyes narrow. “How long _has_ it been since my accident?”

 

Did the accident make him lose sense of time? “About two weeks, I believe.”

 

“So my son has no time to see to _me_ , his father and his _king_ , but time enough for a wife?” Now the king sounds angry.

 

She tries to keep any tremble out of her voice. “Not really, no. Not much time for anything.”

 

“Enough to marry, at least.”

 

“We’ve been married for months now, Your Majesty.”  

 

“We?”

 

“Yes.” She pauses. “We. Bash and I.” His obvious confusion is concerning. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

He opens his mouth as if to answer, but what comes out is a command. “Tell Catherine I must see her immediately.”

 

\---

 

It seems that Henry doesn’t remember some of the things he said and did in the throes of madness.

 

It’s said there isn’t the slightest flicker of recognition in his eyes when Catherine has Penelope brought into the sickroom from God knows where.

 

After that, there follows careful questioning that confirms the king has not merely forgotten discrete incidents but rather whole swathes of time prior to his accident.  

 

“Conveniently for him, it seems he’s forgotten the entire time he was mad,” Catherine says, half-skeptically. 

 

\---

 

When Kenna gently suggests that her husband ought to see his father, he very uncharacteristically explodes.

 

Even though it’s not her that he’s angry with, the intensity of Bash’s anger is frightening enough that it’s the first time she truly sees something of the king in him.

 

“He tried to _kill me_ , Kenna! Multiple times! He ordered me to Spain and his men to kill me on the way! He would’ve done it when I returned if Francis hadn’t intervened! He threatened us both at sword point! My own father’s been more of a threat to my life than his wife who hates the fact that I exist!”

 

He’s breathing hard and she speaks quickly when she senses the first lull in his tirade. “But you’re alive and well, thank God, and all you’re doing by letting this fester is ruining _your_ life. You’re not usually an angry man or a frightening one, but right now I don’t recognize you.”

 

His face slackens, softens. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. None of this is your fault.”

 

She nods and gestures for him to sit on their bed. _All’s forgiven._ Normally it wouldn’t be, because she knows she doesn’t deserve such treatment, but it’s an unusual situation.

 

He takes her hands and kisses them in apology. “But the thing is, just because he doesn’t remember it, doesn’t make it right. And doesn’t make the rest of it right either.”

 

“The rest of it? The fact that you’re stuck with me till death?” It’s the last thing she expected to say. She likes to think that love’s made her less self-centered.

 

_You make it sound as though I’m the most self-centered woman in France._

_Oh, I can’t say that. I haven’t met all the women in France._

_Fine. Then all I care about is me._

 

She’s secure in their marriage, in his love, now. _Or perhaps not_ , she thinks, tears pricking at her eyes inexplicably.

 

He looks genuinely pained. “Don’t say that.” He puts his arms around her and she doesn’t fight it, curls closer as he rests his chin atop her head. “That’s probably the only thing he got right –”

 

“What a miracle,” she interrupts, her words echoing words of his that she cherishes, words that accompanied his declaration of love, half-muffled into his shoulder. She feels him nod.

 

“It’s just . . . so many other things.”

 

She pulls away to look into his eyes. “But he was losing his grip on reality.”

 

“If he’d coerced us into it and left it at that, I could forgive it. I might be a bastard, but I’m a king’s bastard, and kings’ children are pushed into marriages not of their choosing all the time. And it’s turned out to be the best thing he ever did for me. What infuriates me is _why_ he did it.”

 

“Rather practical reasons.” Of course that wasn’t all of it, but she doesn’t want Bash to work himself up again. “So you wouldn’t be a threat to Francis and Mary. To quiet my demands for a husband.”

 

“You asked for a wealthy, titled one. He couldn’t even get that right,” Bash says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Those things were part of it, of course, but the _specific_ solution was chosen to humiliate us both. And my ridiculous ‘title’ to make a mockery of me.”

 

“I think that was more to mock me, giving me what I asked for while not doing so at all to remind me I had no right to demand anything of a king. And well . . . you _are_ an extraordinarily fast rider and an excellent hunter. Even if it was mean-spirited and mad –”

 

“It shows he _knows_ me,” Bash scoffs. “Mother already said something similar. Even though she’s furious with him, she’s trying to excuse him. You two are rather alike.”

 

“God forbid.”

 

“My mother I understand. She’s been with him for decades now, but you . . . God, Kenna, don’t you remember? He’d practically eat you with his eyes and the way he spoke to you –”

 

It had been revolting.

 

“The way he spoke to me about you, how he _terrified_ you.” Bash’s hands are clenched into tight fists at his side.

 

Everything Bash says is true. She’d been furious when the king had forced them to marry one another and she’d feared for her life well before that and even more so after.

 

But Henry had clearly been very sick. He’s Bash’s father and Bash loved him. Now he’s better and they can be reconciled.

 

But Bash ignores all her pleas.

 

\---

 

He has no idea how much it will cost them, that perhaps if he had just spoken to Henry and Henry had known what was in his heart –

 

\---

 

She refuses to believe the things they’ve told her. This can’t be happening.

 

“It’s done and can’t be undone,” Henry says firmly, sounding like a king again and a very stable one at that.

 

“But not to worry, Henry’s arranged for a generous dowry. You’ll be quite the prize.” Diane’s tone is mocking. “And we’ve found a man – a wealthy, titled man – who is willing to overlook your . . . past. Your things are being packed as we speak.”

 

“You will leave tonight and you will say goodbye to no one.”

Henry might sound sane again, but the guilt that drove him mad and his actions against Bash and even Francis during that madness made clear that he’s not above disposing of those in the way of what he wants. Tonight he wants to make things right with his favorite son. And the way to do that, he’s decided, is to get rid of his son’s wife.

 

It’s actually surprising that Henry and Diane are bothering with marrying her off rather than just poisoning her or arranging for some convenient accident. Thank God for that.

 

But what are they capable of doing if she defies them?

 

_We just need the courage to fight!_

 

She shakes her head at her absent husband’s naiveté. Unfortunately, she had the right of it and she’s learning that the hard way.

_Not if fighting means dying!_

Tonight, all she will worry about is staying alive. If she doesn’t, there’s nothing anyone can do for her. While there’s life, there’s hope.

 

As she recites her vows in a clear, carrying voice (no tears for her this time), she digs her nails into her palms, hoping the pain she inflicts on her hands will distract her from the pain in her heart.

 

\---

 

She’s taken straight from a secret chamber in the castle dungeon to a waiting carriage. She considers screaming for help, bur remembers that they’d have her thrown into the carriage and the carriage driving off into the night before anyone can come to her aid and that it would only anger her new husband and his lackeys.

 

In fact, their carriage is driven impossibly fast, all night and all day, with only the briefest stops to relieve themselves and change horses.  The curtains are drawn throughout their travels so she hasn’t the faintest idea where they are.

 

They finally stop to rest at an inn for the evening. When it comes time to dismount, she begins to shake so she can barely get out of the carriage, fearing what’s likely to come next.

 

“You have nothing to fear, as long as you obey a single rule,” her new husband tells her, gripping her arm tightly, though not tightly enough to bruise.

 

She doesn’t reply.

 

“Don’t you wish to know what the rule is?”

 

She makes no outward sign of hearing or caring.

 

“No contact with anyone at court and all will be well.”

 

She nods and tries to focus on a single task once she’s inside: finding a night rail amongst her meager things.

 

_Your things are being packed as we speak._

Hardly any things. She tries not to picture Diane pawing through her things now that she’s gone.

 

After she’s finally changed and Lord Narcisse snuffs out the candle, she’s still and silent, barely even breathes when he enters her, only wishes she was anywhere other than here.

 

\---

 

Right now, she’s not sure what her strategy is so far from court, but she needs her new husband not to be suspicious of her or angry at her while she considers it. She fears that if she opens her mouth, she will bring both his suspicion and his anger down upon herself, so she maintains her self-imposed vow of silence nearly entirely, limiting herself to “yes,” “no,” “well,” “fine,” and nodding or shaking her head when needed.

 

She certainly doesn’t want him thinking she’s here willingly. It’s her small rebellion, the only thing keeping her from total despair.

 

\---

 

Well, not the only thing.

 

As they prepare to head off to their separate bedchambers one night, her husband brings up a subject she’d known she couldn’t hide from forever. “I told the king I would overlook anything, and I keep my word. I already have a son to inherit after me, so it doesn’t matter that you’re pregnant. The child won’t know the difference, not from me.”

 

Her heart leaps into her throat. She _knew_ this day would come, though she’d hoped (very deep down) that someone would have saved her from this fate by now because she has no idea how to save herself. She has no pin money, she doesn’t know where she is, and she can’t trust the servants to help her. She’s done nothing to win their affection – though if she’s lucky, she may have their pity – and she suddenly intensely regrets that.

 

He must have overheard them talking.

 

She can’t lie because he’ll know she did as her belly continues to grow and will distrust her. “You can’t mean that,” she says, voice hoarse from disuse. It’s been longer than she can remember since she’s said a thing beyond one word answers.

 

“I do. You will have your child, we will call it ours, and in time, it will have brothers and sisters.”

 

Lord Narcisse is not being unkind nor has he been before, so she tries to suppress the shudder that goes through her as she recalls the night he took her. She can’t even say forced. As her husband, he had the right to do it and she did not resist. She imagines the king and Diane required it of him, consummating their marriage immediately. He hasn’t bedded her since.

 

He’s a hard man, certainly, but not unkind. He is closer to Henry’s age than her own – his only child and heir, Eduard, is of an age with her – but is still quite handsome. Handsomer than the king, in truth. A life with him could be happy, in time, if she did not love Bash.

 

After all, she was forced into marrying Bash once and, as time passed, became far happier than she could have hoped. But that’s the problem: there’s no room in her heart for another, because she does love Bash, and she longs for him so she fears she’ll die from it.

 

\---

 

As her baby grows, she becomes terribly afraid. Nightmares plague her every single night. Either she watches her own death in childbed or sees herself bringing forth a stillborn. She’s not sure which would be worse: leaving her child alone in the world or being left without anything or anyone to give her life meaning.

 

During one of her nightmares, she lets out such bloodcurdling screams in her sleep that Lord Narcisse runs into her bedchamber. “Are you hurt? Have you been attacked?”  It’s the first time she’s seen him anything but composed.

 

“No. No, I – I’m sorry. It was a bad dream.”

 

“A nightmare,” he corrects.

 

“Yes.”

 

He lights a candle, bathing them in light, and places it on her nightstand. “May I?”

 

She nods and he sits on the bed, at her feet.

 

“What did you dream?”

 

“I dreamed – I often dream, every night lately, actually – of my own death, or of the baby being stillborn.”

 

“That’s terrible.” It's sincere, not condescending, in that way he sometimes speaks to others, like he's having a joke at their expense.

 

“It is. It takes hours for me to fall asleep afterward and whenever I recall my nightmares during the day, I feel as though I can’t breathe from fear.”

 

“Nightmares sometimes tell you what you fear the most and well . . . most women fear childbirth, I’m told. Is there anything that might help ease your fears? The current state of affairs can’t be good for you or the child and being woken by screams isn’t good for anyone.”

 

“I’m sorry, again.”

 

“You didn’t do it on purpose, you were clearly terrified.”

 

“May I ask you a question?”

 

“You may.”

 

“If I should die, what would happen to the –” She is careful not to call her child “my child” out loud, in case the servants should hear. And it seems as if Lord Narcisse truly wishes to forget it’s not his, perhaps to better dispose himself to be kind to it.

 

“To the child?” he finishes for her.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You are young, and healthy, there is no reason why –”

 

“You’ve three wives dead, my lord. Surely you understand a woman’s life is not guaranteed.” She’d confronted him about his late wives when she overheard the servants’ talk, without telling him her sources, claiming it was something she had heard at court, but had never dreamed would be relevant to her.

 

If the things he told her were the truth, the whole truth, then his life’s been a rather sad one.

 

“You asked me what might ease my fears and this is the first thing that occurred to me. If I should follow your late wives, what happens to the child?”

 

“What would you wish would happen to the child if you were not here to care for it?”

 

“I’d want it to be loved and cared for.” _By its real father._

 

“I could do as we’ve planned and raise it as my own.” He gives her an assessing look. “You don’t look pleased.” He seems to take her silence as an admission. “I could give the child to your former husband –”

 

It still pains her, that. Her _former_ husband.

 

“If that is what you wish.”

 

“Do you not fear the king’s wrath? Isn’t that why you married me?”

 

“I don’t fear the king.”

 

He’s braver than she is.

 

“Frankly, I have more money than I know what to do with and power over many of my fellow noblemen. But it’s always wise to make sure your sovereign is in debt to you, no matter how wealthy you are, and this manner of doing so was not a hardship. As you said, I’m thrice a widower. You are a young woman and beautiful besides. There was no reason to think you were not fertile and now it’s obvious that you are.”

 

“Would you truly?” she insists.

 

“If it’s your wish.”

 

“It is.”

 

He looks wistful for a moment – so brief a flash she thinks she may have imagined it – and she almost feels bad for hurting him, if in fact she has.

 

\---

 

She can’t name her son for his father and she will not name him for Lord Narcisse. She names him for her own father instead. “Hello, James,” she whispers, carefully holding him as close as she can. 

 

\---

 

They return to court after more than two years away, after the plague ends. Among the victims of the plague was, most unexpectedly, the king, so now Francis must be crowned. They cannot keep away for that. No noble can, not if he values his position.

 

Among the other victims of the plague was Eduard.

 

While Stéphane – it seemed ridiculous not to call the man who’d seen her at her worst, sweating and swearing and panting as she brought forth her child, to whom she’s been married longer than she was to Bash, by his given name – has been kind to her and to Jamie, he can be ruthless. He is when he learns the truth of Eduard’s death after sending a trusted underling to investigate the matter. If it’s up to him, Mary and Francis will not have a moment’s rest.

 

It’s true that she’s shocked by Mary’s apparent and sudden callousness, though she is not so blind to Eduard’s faults as Stéphane, despite not seeing much of her stepson. But knowing the depth of Stéphane’s grief and rage, she also finds herself fearing for her friend and queen, their new king, and their baby daughter, even as hope for herself and her own child unfurls in her heart at the thought of seeing Bash again.

 

\---

 

When she sees Bash again for the first time, she wants to run to him, but he strides off in the opposite direction when he catches sight of her, eyes flashing.

 

She thinks she may want to die.

 

Stéphane gives her a nod. She understands him well enough now to know it’s a sympathetic nod. He’s a hard man, but not an unkind one, even while he grieves for his son and plots to terrorize the royal couple.

 

\---

 

Her friends’ reaction to her return is the opposite of her former husband’s. “Oh Kenna! We missed you terribly! Why didn’t you write to us?”

 

Greer tries to pry Lola away. “You’re smothering her!” she scolds before speaking to Kenna. “We did miss you so! But when you catch your breath, later in private, I expect you to answer every single question we have.”

 

\---

 

While Mary wasn’t present for their initial reunion, Kenna is called to Mary’s apartments later that same evening.

 

“Lady Kenna,” Mary says gravely, formally. “Oh, dear me, my mistake. Lady Narcisse. It’s been so long.”

 

Even after all this time, it’s strange to hear someone call her Lady Narcisse. Her husband calls her by her given name, to her little boy she is Mama, and the servants address her as “m’lady.” She only hears her proper title in when others are speaking about her.

 

Kenna will not be allowed to forget that Mary is Mary, Queen of Scotland and France, her queen twice over, first and Mary, Kenna’s lifelong friend, second. 

 

“Welcome back to court.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She curtseys.

 

Mary does not invite her to sit. Her questions are immediate and blunt. “Why did you leave?”

 

“I was forced to.”

 

“A likely story. There was no sign of a struggle. One of your trunks was missing and some of your things, but everything that remained was perfectly in its place. You left a _note_. I recognized your hand. It broke my heart to confirm what Bash already knew.”

 

“It must have been a forgery. I wrote no such note, I swear! The whole thing was Henry and Diane’s doing. They’d just received word from Rome that our marriage had been annulled and wanted to act quickly. They had a servant pack some of my things while I had my second wedding at sword point.”

 

Mary’s eyes go wide. “To Lord Narcisse, damn the man.”

 

“Yes, but he’s not a bad man. In truth –”

 

“Of course you’d think so, he’s your husband now and the father of –”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“I hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Bash, but I was with child. It’s why I didn’t struggle.”

 

“You were afraid for your child,” Mary guesses.

 

It seems that she’s answered Mary’s questions to her satisfaction because she abruptly ceases the interview to call for one of the servants. “Please have someone fetch Lady Lola and Lady Castleroy.”

 

Wait – so Greer _did_ marry Lord Pepperpot! Kenna will have to ask her all about it.

 

“And have some drinks and something to eat brought at once. Do you still like apple tarts?”

 

She nods.

 

“Apple tarts, then,” Mary tells the servant. “And chocolate.” Once the servant is out of sight, Mary throws her arms about her. “Oh, we missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too,” she cries. She can’t help herself. She did, so very much.

 

\---

 

At first she’s so preoccupied with missing Bash and her fears for her child that she doesn’t realize how much she misses and needs her friends. But after she gives birth and realizes that Stéphane was the only familiar face at her side, she cries bitterly for Lola and Greer and Mary.

 

“Like her heart’s breaking, m’lord,” her maid reports worriedly to Stéphane when they think she’s not listening.

 

The midwife is immediately called back to the estate.

 

Kenna can hear the hushed whispers between the midwife and her husband about melancholy. How she might not want to eat, but must be made to if she continues to insist on nursing the baby herself. That some women are driven mad by melancholy and they must watch for signs that she wishes to harm herself or the baby.    

 

She would _never_. Her son is the light of her life, the only thing she has left of her first marriage and the man she loves.

 

\---

 

They talk all night.

 

Well, for once, she mostly listens. She does not have much to tell now that she’s explained the circumstances of her marriage. There is Jamie, of course, but right now there is so much she _must_ know of her friends’ lives and of court that she tries her best to contain her motherly pride.

 

They tell her of Anne, of Jean, of Greer’s marriage and stepchildren and that Greer is now with child.

 

Eventually, the conversation takes a turn to other things.

 

They tell her of Bash after she disappeared.

 

“He hardly slept,” Mary says. “Barely ate. No matter what the hour, he’d be found in his deputy’s office.”

 

Greer makes a sympathetic noise. “I think he needed the distraction.”

 

“I’ve never seen a man look so defeated in all my life as when we learned what had happened – or rather, were fed a story about what happened, I suppose,” Lola adds quietly. “It was hard for all of us. For us to lose someone like a sister to us, to feel like you could leave us so easily, but Bash . . . he loved you so much it nearly destroyed him.”

 

 _Loved._ She starts to cry again. “He wouldn’t even look at me when I saw him.”

 

They fold her into their embrace and remain like that for the rest of the night, girls again for one evening, not wives and mothers.

 

\---

 

Stéphane’s principal estate is quite vast and Jamie is used to having the run of it. He loves the gardens and the trees and the sunshine. He loves animals too. Not quite two, he’s far too small for horses, but already has a floppy-eared pup of his own.

 

She had gifted it to him on his first birthday, making a casual remark about it being practice for a good hunting dog. “An Irish wolfhound, perhaps, my darling,” she said, tapping Jamie’s nose.

 

Stéphane had given her a knowing look and laughed. He rarely laughed, but it was a rather nice laugh. “You’ll want to wait until he’s taller than the dog for that. And a greyhound might be better.”

 

Naturally, Jamie’s quite restless after days of travel and being cooped up in an unfamiliar place after their journey ended.

 

There’s finally a day that’s warm enough – warm enough for Scots, at any rate, no one else at court dares to venture out with the slight chill in the air – that Kenna decides to take her boy out for a stroll.

 

Jamie quickly tires himself out chasing birds in the gardens, so she gathers him to her and finds a bench for them to sit on.

 

They’ve only been sitting for a short while when Bash comes upon them. He’d left court for several days upon her arrival, but must have returned for the coronation.

 

The bitterness in his eyes as he looks at Jamie sleeping in her arms nearly breaks her.

 

“You moved on quickly, my lady,” Bash nears spits.

 

“I – no,” she hisses quietly, not wanting to startle Jamie awake.  

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Not at all. Gone two years and you return with a toddling boy.” He scoffs and turns his back on her.

 

“I was already with child!” Jamie stirs at the volume of her words, so she lowers her voice. “When I left.”

 

Something changes in his eyes, the anger changing to skepticism that seems to war with . . . hope?

 

“It’s . . . You told me once that all we needed was the courage to fight. I tried, but just with my words, because I was afraid – I didn’t want –”

 

But his voice is cold, doubting, when he questions her. “So you tricked Narcisse into thinking the child his? He’s not a foolish man.”

 

“He knew.”

 

“So I’m supposed to believe that a man like that was all right with giving a bastard his name?”

 

He’s testing her, she knows, but it hurts and angers her in equal measure to hear him speak of her darling baby so, even if it’s technically correct. “Yes! He already had an heir and it indebted the king to him. And nothing mattered more to the king than pleasing your mother. She wanted him to make things right with you and they thought the way to do that was to get rid of me.”

 

“And how did that result in your marrying Narcisse?”

 

“It was all rather like our wedding, at sword point even,” she starts. “Except he was willing. They showed me a letter from Rome, saying our marriage had been annulled. They said you’d agreed to it, that you wished to be free –”

 

“I didn’t –”

 

“And I didn’t believe you wanted it, but it didn’t matter. They were going to be rid of me regardless of whether I believed them or not.”

 

Bash’s entire posture slumps wearily. “They told me that they’d shown you a false letter declaring our marriage annulled and offered you a false marriage to Narcisse to test you because Father wanted to make things right with me, as you said. If you’d reacted ‘properly,’ they would’ve told you the truth and not meddled further, they would leave us alone and Father would have granted me a proper title. Like you always wanted. Well, he did that anyway. I’m a comté now, isn’t that funny?” He’s not laughing.

 

She’s happy for him, in spite of everything else, because it’s long overdue and well-deserved.

 

“But that’s neither here nor there. They hadn’t actually secured the annulment.”

 

“So we’re still –”

 

“They did it later. You failed, they said, so you’d pay for it by living in sin. First they’d let the truth be known, so Narcisse would set you aside and you’d be disgraced. For daring to scorn me, of course. But I’d heard you had a child and asked them to do it quietly and immediately. I didn’t want to be responsible for its illegitimacy.”

 

She feels something tighten in her chest. Even the pain he went through in her absence hadn’t been enough to completely destroy his good heart, even when he believed that she’d willingly abandoned him for a wealthier man of title, he hadn’t wanted to lash out at her child – a child he hadn’t known was his, too.

 

She holds out her free hand, nodding at the empty space beside her on the bench and he takes it as he sits. “Like I said, they did show me the letter they told you about, but I didn’t want to leave. I insisted it could be undone, that we hadn’t wanted that.” There’s a part of her that aches to know that he did not have as much faith in her love as she did in his, that he hadn’t gone after her when she spent months wishing to be found, but she knows how bad things must have looked to him. “But they gave me no choice in the matter. I had no real opportunity to run or cry out for help where someone might hear me. I would never have chosen to leave you if I’d had a choice. _Please_ believe that.”

 

He doesn’t answer, just reaches out to touch Jamie, so tentatively it nearly breaks her heart.

 

Jamie doesn’t stir at all, as if he knows he’s entirely safe.

 

Careful not to wake him, she turns and lifts her free hand to Bash’s cheek. Bash leans into the touch, eyes closing for just a moment, and she kisses him.

 

It’s like coming home.

 

\---

 

Stéphane has become fond of her and of Jamie, but she suspects he will be able to let her go quite easily. Now that Eduard is dead, Jamie would be Stéphane’s heir and no man would want his wife’s child by another man to inherit everything he has worked so hard to build.

 

But how can she convince him to do so without wounding his pride? He’s not been cruel to her and he’s a powerful man that she doesn’t want standing against them.

 

\---

 

Kenna thinks long and hard on the matter and comes to a surprisingly satisfying solution: Lola.

 

Like Kenna, Lola is beautiful and still young. She can easily give Stéphane what he needs most: an heir.

 

To Stéphane, Jean would simply be proof that Lola is capable of bearing strong sons. He will not be expected to be a father to Jean or to provide for him, as he’s the king’s acknowledged son and has already received lands and a title from his father.

 

And if Stéphane expects to marry the mother of the king’s son, he cannot continue to antagonize the king or his queen, eliminating a threat to Francis and Mary.

 

Once they are married and have a honeymoon tour, Stéphane can take Lola and Jean to the country for a time, eliminating some pressure on Mary and some of the tension between the royal couple and between both of them and Lola. Jean’s constant presence at court is a reminder to all that Francis has fathered a son, but his queen has yet to bear him one. While Francis will certainly not allow his son to be away from him for too long, it would be unreasonable to expect Stéphane never to return to his estate or for Lola to always stay behind at court or always leave Jean behind at court when she leaves.

 

Lola would get something out of it as well. Greer says all the men at court fear so much as speaking to her because they think it might anger Francis. In the meanwhile, Lola’s increasingly annoyed to continue being alone. If she marries Stéphane, she gets the marriage she wants, to a man powerful enough to stand up to the king.

 

After seeing Stéphane’s treatment of Jamie, Kenna can also confidently tell her friend that he will be a good stepfather. “If my heart hadn’t already been spoken for, I probably could’ve fallen in love with him,” she tells Lola.

 

She’s even capable of laughing with Lola after they discover a rather salacious journal detailing the prowess (or lack thereof) of any number of courtiers the mystery writer has slept with. “Stéphane has a birthmark just so!” she exclaims when they come to the entry about the lover who towers above the rest.

 

Lola is skeptical. “Is he really as good as all that?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Kenna admits demurely. “We were only together the once . . . to consummate the marriage,” she whispers.

 

Mary had asked them leading questions ahead of the annulment and she and Stéphane had looked at one another, knowing they must lie so that their king and queen could honestly say that they had no knowledge of anything that would preclude an annulment. So she can’t afford to stir anything up now.

 

“And I wasn’t exactly an eager participant.”

 

“So never again, in two years?”

 

“No.”

 

“He sounds more a monk than a man, hardly the lover described here.”

 

“I told him I would not take offense if he took lovers, not that he would’ve needed my permission if he wanted them. I never knew of any, so I don’t know if he just chose not to or if he really is that discreet.”

 

Lola purses her lips, but her eyes suggest she’s seriously considering it.

 

\---

 

In the end, Francis and Mary’s efforts to have her marriage annulled are successful. She will marry Bash again and Jamie will be legitimized.

 

She hardly dares to believe it. It’s all so neat that she’s afraid she’ll wake up and it will all be a dream.

 

But then she reminds herself that it’s not, because it seems she’ll never have the wedding of her dreams, like her friends did. After all, it would be rather inappropriate to celebrate a remarriage so grandly when they already have a child. She laughs out loud, just a bit, at the thought.  

 

She’s perfectly fine with it, because it’s a small price to pay for things to turn out right in the end. 


End file.
